


A Show of Power

by Laylah



Category: Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: Actually Evil Great Leader, Come Inflation, DaiShocker, Fisting, Gangbang, Inducing Stockholm Syndrome, M/M, Manipulative Aftercare, Monster sex, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fuck him," Tsukasa mutters.</p><p>"Great leader?" says one of his attendants nervously, in the <i>did I hear your orders correctly, great leader?</i> voice.</p><p>Tsukasa barks a short laugh. "Fuck him," he says, louder, more vehement, and just like that it <i>is</i> an order instead of an idle curse, because he's great leader and he says so. "Pass the word. Anyone who wants him can have him, from now until I'm sick of watching."</p><p>The attendant, who apparently deserves a promotion, asks, "Including the kaijin?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Rene, who doesn't have an AO3 account but who does have my endless gratitude for saying "ooh yes do it" every time I wanted to push this a little further.

Kaitou Daiki is almost everything Tsukasa wants in a DaiShocker commander. He's clever; he's cynical; he's a survivor. He's a skilled and agile fighter. He's capable of immense devotion to a cause. He's also—not that it matters; it's just that a little variety around headquarters would be nice—he's also egregiously beautiful.

The one thing he's _not_ is cooperative, which is why he's chained to a wall in the dungeon instead of being fitted for a uniform. Tsukasa watches on the monitor as the interrogator hits Kaitou with another blast of electricity. It makes him shudder and scream, then slump limp and sweating in the chains afterward. But when he lifts his head to say something, whatever it is earns him a hard backhand to the mouth.

Fuck him for how pretty he looks bleeding. "Fuck him," Tsukasa mutters.

"Great leader?" says one of his attendants nervously, in the _did I hear your orders correctly, great leader?_ voice.

Tsukasa barks a short laugh. "Fuck him," he says, louder, more vehement, and just like that it _is_ an order instead of an idle curse, because he's great leader and he says so. "Pass the word. Anyone who wants him can have him, from now until I'm sick of watching."

The attendant, who apparently deserves a promotion, asks, "Including the kaijin?"

Tsukasa's dick twitches. " _Especially_ the kaijin."

* * *

The goddamn torturer must be getting tired by now. They're not very creative, Tsukasa's goons, and Daiki could come up with some unkind things to say about their stamina if he were moved to try. His mouth tastes like blood but he makes himself dredge up another smile. "A little to the left next time?"

Before the torturer can comply with that totally reasonable request, the door bangs open. It's three troops, two of them human and one a monster. "New orders," one of the humans says. Probably they're supposed to drag him up in front of Tsukasa for another round of the _are you sure you don't want to be evil with me_? discussion.

They pull the torturer aside for a whispered, frantic-looking conversation. The torturer shakes his head, then shrugs, then throws up his hands in the _what can you do_ gesture. Daiki spits out his mouthful of blood. "Feeling a little left out of the gossip session over here."

The monster laughs. "Don't worry. _Left out_ is the last thing you're going to be."

_One of these days_ , Daiki admonishes himself, _mouthing off is going to get you in real trouble_.

Evil gossip circle breaks up and the monster comes swaggering over to Daiki's very own patch of dungeon. He tries not to tense visibly. The monsters make him so much more nervous than DaiShocker's human goons. Even back on Fourteen's world, it always took effort to be properly polite to the Roaches and not recoil from their presence.

It reaches up and unclips Daiki's shackles from the wall, and he reaches for the only armor he has: "Time to take the prisoner for walkies?"

"You'll get plenty of exercise right here," the monster answers. It shouldn't be possible for those terrible fixed faces to leer, but he'd swear it does. "And after that, I don't think you'll want to _try_ walking."

The humans have dragged a table into the middle of the room, and the monster hauls Daiki over there to shove him down on his belly over it. This is instantly worse than being chained with his back to the wall—the vulnerability of having someone get behind him sucks—and that's before they attach his shackles to the chair legs and someone goes for the buttons of his pants.

_Don't_ sticks in his throat and he refuses to give it voice. "Really? Man, most guys have to pay for service like this."

"Guess you're lucky great leader likes you," the monster retorts.

"Hah. That's one way to put it." If he protests, they won't listen, and it'll get worse—not just because they'll get nastier to prove a point, but because it'll be right there, explicit and unavoidable, that he said no and it didn't matter. If he's playing along, that's one thing they can't take from him.

The hands on his ass feel human, at least, normal-sized and warm, with no hints of claw. One of the other goons is chaining his ankles to the table legs, too, in case he has enough strength left to try to kick anyone in the junk. It's flattering that they're worried.

There's even some admittedly chilly wetness involved when the prime goon shoves his way in. Daiki's been through a lot worse than this. "I've had worse," he says over his shoulder. "You're not really putting your back into it, though."

The guy slaps his ass hard enough to make him jump reflexively, but at least he doesn't make any embarrassing noises. "Can't we gag him?" one of them asks.

"No," says the torturer. "Great leader's orders. He has to be able to immediately surrender, the second he breaks."

That part takes Daiki's breath away, makes him so furious with Tsukasa it's a knot of heat writhing in his chest. He's _not_ going to surrender, and how dare Tsukasa act like it's an inevitability? Something for the goons to accommodate as soon as it happens?

The first goon fucking him is unremarkable enough that he can just grit his teeth through it and wait it out. The second one has a bigger dick, so it's more uncomfortable, but it's still way better than getting beaten or shocked repeatedly. And then the door opens again.

"So it's true," says the first goon through the door. "I can't believe there aren't more guys here already."

There are five of them, and two of them are more monsters. No—a third one is changing shape as it stands there, growing taller and broader and breaking out in dark scales. They crowd into the room, jostling for position, and the just-transformed monster says, "I want him next."

Daiki goes cold all over.

A fight breaks out among the goons over whether the monster can claim dibs, and whether it's fair to let it go next when it's so much bigger than a human or if that'll ruin him for the rest of them. Daiki thinks he's going to be sick. They can't be serious, except that this is DaiShocker, and they've never met a villainous idea they didn't like.

The human side wins the argument, which means a third man replaces the second, and then a fourth replaces the third, and even though it hurts Daiki can only hope that more of them show up, enough to keep displacing the monsters, until... what? Until they get bored and leave? Until some miraculous rescue happens? Until he blacks out and doesn't have to experience the worst part?

Somewhere in the middle of the fifth—sixth?—round, one of the monsters yells, "Fuck this! I'm done waiting!" But instead of barging out the door it storms toward the table, grabbing the goon taking his turn and yanking him bodily away from Daiki. It throws the goon toward the rest of the ones waiting, and there's a scuffle that Daiki can't afford to pay attention to because the monster is behind him now and when he looks back he can see it freeing its dick from its armor. The fucking thing looks as big as his arm. And it—

It _squirms_ , like it has a mind of its own, this wet red monstrosity almost as horrible as the creature it's attached to. And that thing's going to—Daiki makes himself look away, tries his best to wipe the panic off his face and relax the instinctive tension in his body. He'll get through this. He's a survivor. He won't break and he'll find a way out.

He has to give himself the pep talk all over again when the monster touches him, and his train of thought dissolves completely into static when the head of its cock nudges up against his hole. Clawed hands spread his ass and hold him pinned against the table, and the thick, oozing head of its cock breaches the stretched ring of his asshole. Daiki jerks helplessly against his chains, panting, trying desperately to keep himself from begging for the mercy he won't get. It's too much. It's too big and it's wrong and that _thing_ shouldn't be touching him like this.

It eels its way in slowly, one fat curl after another, until Daiki feels like he can hardly breathe, he's so full. Little shivers of hot and cold flash over his skin and he's trembling down to the bone, and it's barely started. _Keep breathing_ , he tells himself. 

It wrecks him. It doesn't thrust anywhere near as hard as the humans did, but it doesn't need to, when every tiny movement feels like it's pummeling him inside. He loses track of how long it takes, how much of this misery he's actually enduring. He's trembling all over. At some point he broke out in a sweat and now his skin is clammy everywhere. His jaw aches from clenching it shut so he won't scream.

When the monster finally comes, hips jerking against his ass, Daiki hates how much his revulsion is tinged with relief. It pulls out, squirming free of sore, aching flesh, and he chokes on a sound that wants to be a sob.

His old friend the torturer steps up to the table, grabs him by the hair, and pulls his head up. "You ready to offer your unconditional surrender to DaiShocker's Great Leader yet?"

"Go to hell," Daiki says before anything more traitorous can rise to his lips.

"He wants another one!" the torturer crows.

Daiki does his best not to cry.

Something lean and scaly lurches up to the table to take the offer, and as it circles around behind him Daiki is painfully aware of how hard-used he's already been. His asshole feels hot and swollen, stretched loose. The scrapes and bruises he'd gotten from DaiShocker's earlier hospitality hurt all over again.

The new monster rams into him fast and hard, pistoning frantically, every stroke jarring. Daiki's hipbones bruise against the table. He prays it'll just hurry up and come.

It starts to after only a few minutes, a rush of chilly fluid that's uncomfortable in a whole new way. The first pulse is followed by a second, then a third, and Daiki's guts cramp as he gets pumped full and over-full of the monster's revolting come. He wanted it to do this, he tells himself in disgust. Instead of wanting it to stop, he wanted it to finish, and now he's pulling helplessly at his chains as if he could crawl away from the hideous discomfort of being filled with its cold come.

The pressure starts to ease up as soon as it pulls out, but then its disgusting mess is dripping out of him, running down the insides of his thighs. His cheeks burn with humiliation, even as the pain of being over-full eases. He's so fucking filthy, and the steady trickle of the monster's come feels like he's soiling himself, and that's somehow harder to stand than the pain of getting fucked.

He doesn't dare look up. If the torturer comes over to ask him to surrender again, he's afraid of what he'll say. How much worse can it get? How much worse could it be to betray his principles than to keep this up?

"Looks like you've warmed him up enough for me," says a new voice. Daiki has to look—not only because of the nervous murmurs from the spectators but because the voice sounded female.

The monster it belongs to looks female, too, wasp-waisted, wearing spike heels, thin translucent wings fluttering behind it as it steps forward. Its mandibles don't move when it speaks. "Warm, soft meat," it croons, running its claws down Daiki's back. He shudders, and doesn't miss the way some of the human spectators are edging toward the door. "Just what we like best."

The wasp monster moves around behind him, touching his ass, his thighs, running its clawtips through the sticky filth on his skin. Daiki bows his head, biting his lip and trying to convince himself that surrender isn't inevitable. He has the shakes, bone-deep and persistent. He's pretty sure that's a sign of shock.

Whatever the wasp monster stuffs up his ass is smooth and warm, slender enough not to make the pain worse, and he's stupidly grateful. It pushes in deep, but then it doesn't really thrust, which is also such a relief that he has to wonder why this one makes the regular troops so nervous.

It starts rocking slightly, making low grunts of effort. Its dick or whatever it is swells up at the base until Daiki's feeling stretched taut again, and he has just enough time to wonder if that's a knot before the swelling moves, sliding all the way into him and then deeper, to the thing's tip. The monster groans in satisfaction, and when it shifts its weight slightly that swelling stays where it is.

Comprehension hits in a wave of nausea: it's laying eggs. Inside him.

"No," he chokes out as he feels it swell with a second egg, "no, no, no," and there are tears in his eyes from sheer panic. The watching monsters hoot and howl, goading the wasp on.

It drapes itself over his back like a lover. "Yes," it breathes against his nape. Its ovipositor throbs with the passage of another egg. "Such a perfect carrier for my brood."

Daiki retches. "I give up," he says, fast so he can't change his mind. The cluster of eggs shifts inside him as the monster moves. "I surrender, I'll do what you want, just please stop."

The monster covers his mouth with a clawed hand. "Hush, lovely," it says. "You're doing so well. Halfway there. You can surrender after you take the rest." It groans again in pleasure as it adds another egg to the weight inside him.

Too little, too late, Daiki tries to resist, struggling against his chains, trying to get the leverage to bite, anything to get it off him, out of him. The wasp monster purrs and laughs, still pinning him spread and filled despite his futile protests, and the revolting mass of eggs keeps growing.

When the door bangs open both Daiki and the monster jump. It's Tsukasa, striding in completely incandescent with rage, his glare sweeping the monstrous assembly. "That's _enough_ ," he growls, and right at that moment Daiki could kiss him.


	2. Chapter 2

"That's _enough_ ," Tsukasa roars. None of his lieutenants can meet his eyes. "All of you, get out!" He glares at the Wasp Queen, still spread over the back of his prisoner. " _Now_."

Her mandibles click in irritation but she doesn't dare rebel openly. In another minute she's slouching out the door with the rest of the kaijin.

Tsukasa kicks the door shut and turns his attention to his captive. Kaitou's face is blotchy red, streaked with tears and snot; he looks defeated in a way he never has after mere pain. Tsukasa reaches out to brush one of those tear tracks away and Kaitou shivers.

"She was breeding you, wasn't she?"

Kaitou winces, turning his face away. He nods once, like even that is painful.

Tsukasa walks around behind him. "How many eggs?" Kaitou's ass looks even more ill-used in person than it had on the monitor, flushed and gaping, sticky with kaijin fluids. Tsukasa puts a hand on the small of Kaitou's back, steadying. "It's important. How many?"

Kaitou takes a shaky breath. "Not sure," he says hoarsely. "Six? Eight?"

"Mm." Tsukasa slides his other hand under Kaitou's abdomen, feeling for the eggs. "They all need to come out as soon as possible." It feels like the eggs are still moving independently, at least, not bound into a single mass yet. "Try pushing them out first."

"Oh my god," Kaitou says miserably, but the muscles of his abdomen tighten obediently under Tsukasa's hand. He hisses through his teeth; this is probably painful, after what he's been through. After a few seconds the first egg slides out of him, chalky white streaked with pearly strands of come.

"Good," Tsukasa says, massaging Kaitou's abdomen gently. He feels hot and tender and strange behind his ribs, like he wants to stake a claim on his captive, so fragile and so resilient both at once. The Wasp Queen had better hope Kaitou recovers, or Tsukasa will vivisect her. "Again."

Kaitou manages to pass six eggs on his own, though by the fourth one he's crying quietly, exhaustedly. Tsukasa doesn't know whether he wants to lick those tears away or slip his cock into that softly panting mouth.

"I can't," Kaitou gasps after the sixth. "I can't keep going."

"You did well," Tsukasa reassures him. There's at least one more he can still feel in there, though. "I'll help you with the last one."

The old Kaitou Daiki would have sneered at him and spit curses at the offer. This one just puts his head down, trembling gently, and waits.

Tsukasa unchains his legs and helps him out of the sodden remains of his pants. They'll need to be burned. Next come the locks keeping his wrist shackles attached to the table, and he's so tired and ruined that he doesn't even swipe at Tsukasa when his hands are free. He doesn't offer any resistance at all until he's turned over on his back and Tsukasa is pulling down the straps that will hold his thighs up and spread.

Even then, he only cringes slightly and asks, "Can't you just tell me where you want me? I won't fight."

"I'm doing this to make it easier for you," Tsukasa says; that _is_ one of the reasons. "With the shape you're in right now, you shouldn't have to worry about holding a stressful position." He hoists Kaitou's legs up as he explains, the straps spreading those trembling thighs so it's easy to reach everything between them.

Kaitou closes his eyes. "Do what you want, then."

Tsukasa smiles. "I always do."

He fetches lube, first, one of the big pump bottles. He's not here to do Kaitou more harm, after all. He slicks his hand liberally, paints more of it onto the hot, swollen flesh of Kaitou's hole. "You know to relax," he says as he pauses there.

Kaitou nods. "I don't think I could tense up right now if I tried." Tsukasa tries to set aside the way that idea makes him feel—Kaitou so wrung out and physically drained that he's incapable of even token resistance—and pushes slowly.

It's not an exaggeration. His fingers slip in easily, and even at the knuckles he barely has to apply pressure to make Kaitou's hole yield to him. He licks his lips, watching his hand sink in to the wrist, and his cock throbs.

Business before pleasure, though. He feels carefully in Kaitou's soft heat for the alien shape of the last egg. As his fingers find it, one knuckle brushes a stiff spot along Kaitou's inner walls, and Kaitou gasps. Tsukasa keeps his face impassive and lets his knuckles rub that spot again as he coaxes the egg into his grip. Kaitou's breath hitches and his cock twitches against his belly. It's the first sign of interest Tsukasa has seen from him, and that's worth further investigation.

Every little movement of his hand makes Kaitou shiver, so Tsukasa takes his time, flexing and relaxing, stroking that spot and retreating from it. By the time he actually pulls the egg free, Kaitou's cheeks are evenly flushed and his cock is more than half hard.

Tsukasa drops the egg, pumps more lube onto his knuckles, and slides his hand back in. "Your hands are free," he reminds Kaitou. "You could touch yourself."

"Do you want me to?" Kaitou asks. He doesn't sound angry about it. 

Tsukasa shrugs. "I'd like it." He doesn't think he'll have to make it an order, not now.

He's right. Kaitou slides one hand down his belly to cup his cock, and strokes himself the rest of the way hard as Tsukasa works him from the inside. His chest rises and falls with each sharp breath, his mouth open and so fuckable it's maddening. The first time he moans, a thrill of triumph dances along Tsukasa's spine.

He lets it go slowly, at a pace Kaitou can tolerate right now. The most important thing is that Kaitou is cooperating—that even after all that, Kaitou is willing and able to find pleasure in Tsukasa's hand filling him. No matter what else he's suffered, he can enjoy himself if he gives in to Tsukasa. That's such a valuable thing to show him.

Eventually, despite his exhaustion and how much he must be hurting, he starts to tense toward a climax. Little tremors run through him, his legs shaking in the straps. He's struggling for it, muscles fluttering around the invasion of Tsukasa's hand.

"Would this help?" Tsukasa asks, offering the lube bottle with his free hand.

Kaitou nods, holding one hand out, so Tsukasa pumps some into his palm. Kaitou slicks it over the length of his cock, his breath stuttering, and Tsukasa's own cock aches. Not now, he tells himself. When Kaitou has recovered, there will be plenty of time to fuck him properly—when there's nothing to distract either of them, when Tsukasa can take his time and expect Kaitou to keep up.

Right now he's just keeping watch, nudging Kaitou gently closer to understanding just how far a DaiShocker officer will go for his great leader. Slowly, inevitably, Kaitou overcomes his own body's limits, and when he finally comes it's not an explosive triumph so much as a graceful surrender, painting his stomach as he shakes apart on Tsukasa's hand.

He's so beautiful Tsukasa doesn't know how to even tolerate it.

When the last of Kaitou's climax fades into oversensitive, pained trembling, Tsukasa carefully withdraws his hand. He steps back and for a few seconds just commits the image to memory: Kaitou debauched and filthy, spread and stretched, slick and finally—despite himself—willing. It's an almost perfect moment.

But drawing it out would ruin it, so instead he goes to the sink to wash his hands and fetch some wet cloths to clean up his prize. Kaitou is half asleep by the time Tsukasa brings the washcloths back; he startles a little at the first touch of wet cloth, but relaxes again as he realizes what Tsukasa is doing.

"Thank you," he says hoarsely.

Tsukasa smiles at him, wiping away the kaijin come streaking his thighs. "You'll be all right now. As long as you don't challenge my authority, I can keep them away from you."

Kaitou nods his understanding. He whimpers when Tsukasa runs the wet cloth over the cleft of his ass, but he doesn't try to pull away. Tsukasa briefly debates executing everyone who fucked his prize today but decides that would be bad for morale; he'll just kill anyone who attempts it from now on.

After the last of the mess is cleaned up, Tsukasa drops the soiled cloths in the sink and rummages for some kind of salve. The interrogation room doubles as storage for the infirmary precisely because it's sometimes important to put a broken captive back together. He finds a jar labeled for scrapes and abrasions and figures that should do.

He smooths the cream over the inflamed, angry flesh around Kaitou's hole, and Kaitou sighs. This will soothe, but it won't actually heal damage; that'll still take time. Possibly not much time, if Tsukasa's science team are right about Fourteen's attempts to breed more resilient livestock—it'll be interesting to see how accurate those reports are.

Well. Appealing as Kaitou looks like this, it's probably time to let him down. Tsukasa releases the straps, lowering his legs, and lets him sit up so he can slide off the table. His knees buckle and he crumples to a kneeling position, swaying unsteadily. When he tries to stand again, Tsukasa claps a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"One more thing before we're done."

Understanding and resignation are plain on Kaitou's face even before he nods. He waits, passive, as Tsukasa unbuttons, and leans in obediently to fit his lips around the head of Tsukasa's cock as soon as it's bare. He's clumsy, either inexperienced or exhausted; Tsukasa supposes he'll find out which next time. This time it hardly matters—he's been hard since his troops manhandled Kaitou into position, and it's not going to take much to please him now. He threads a steadying hand into Kaitou's hair and thrusts lazily, not deep enough to choke. It's important to know when to show mercy.

And the wet softness of Kaitou's lips and tongue is plenty, even without demanding the tight clutch of his throat. Tsukasa lets his control go, pleasure spiraling tight down his spine as he fucks Kaitou's mouth. Nobody else had this. He made sure of it. Kaitou's mouth is his alone.

He climaxes on that thought, hips jerking, pouring out his come on Kaitou's tongue. Kaitou barely hesitates before he swallows—like he knew it was what Tsukasa would want and chose to do it without waiting for an order. He's perfect.

"Good," Tsukasa says. "Excellent." he pulls back, tucks himself back into his pants, and offers a hand to help Kaitou up. When Kaitou stands it feels right to kiss him, so Tsukasa does—gently, briefly, just enough to satisfy the impulse. Kaitou is looking at him like he's confusing. Tsukasa cups his face in one hand fondly. "You could probably use some rest."

"Yes," Kaitou rasps. "Please."

Tsukasa smiles. They've come to a much better understanding now. "Come on, then." He leads Kaitou out of the interrogation room, leaving the mess behind for some underling to handle. He'll install Kaitou in a room near his, someplace convenient. In a few hours he'll have the kitchen send up a hot meal, something to help Kaitou start getting his strength back after his stay in the dungeons.

And tomorrow, they can see about a uniform fitting.


End file.
